


Unpredictable Routines

by xxxbookaholic



Series: Fantober Writing 2020 [3]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Coming of Age, Confessions, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, but only kind of, pregame au, taking the same bus au, the school isn't the setting tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbookaholic/pseuds/xxxbookaholic
Summary: Kokichi mentally cursed himself for hesitating, but the regret didn’t last long as he turned around in his seat and watched Shuichi disappear into the distance. He didn’t even bother to put his legs back up on the seat beside him; just placed his bag there to hold the seat and continued to watch out the window, craning his neck until there was no longer any possible way for him to see the bus stop.ora tale of both the fear and adrenaline that comes with first love
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Fantober Writing 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948714
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	Unpredictable Routines

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend listening to Can't Help Falling In Love With You by Haley Reinhart while you listen!  
> This is also available to read on my tumblr (xxxbookaholic)

_Take my hand,_

_take my whole life, too._

_~_

Thursday started out the same as it always did; going through the motions of getting up, getting ready for school, drinking the milk straight out of the carton to annoy a total of no one, refusing to give his bus seat up for the pregnant lady from across the street.

The only difference was that it was raining. Water pattered on the windows, clouding the view of the city. Kokichi felt almost childish as he waited for the bus to get to his stop, taking up two seats—he needed _somewhere_ to put his legs—and racing the droplets as they slid from the top of the window to the bottom. He was almost tempted to pull a marker out and start drawing on the walls, just to complete the scenario.

He could feel the glare of said pregnant lady even when the bus halted at her stop and she made her way off. Kokichi wished he could tell her to fight back; complaining behind clasped hands would get her nowhere. It was boring, too. If she was going to hate him, she should at least make it interesting.

What wasn’t the same as usual that Thursday was the boy who slid past that pregnant lady, onto the bus and straight to where she had been standing before. Nobody new ever came on this train—rather, it was always the same familiar faces time and time again, resembling a systematic cycle that never seemed to end. That was how Kokichi knew the boy was new, and as far as he was concerned, _new_ meant interesting.

“Hey, do you need a place to sit?” Kokichi hollered over the sound of the engine roaring, signaling that the bus was about to move. Really, even with the buzzing, he didn’t need to yell. Somehow, though, he felt like it would be necessary to tear the stranger’s eyes away from the file he was holding. It was yellow and thick, most likely holding more than just a few papers.

The boy looked around for a second, and when his gaze finally landed on Kokichi’s face, he pointed to himself, as if asking, “ _me?”_

Kokichi rolled his eyes, sitting up straight and sliding his legs off the seat beside him. “Are you deaf or something? _Do you need a seat_?”

The boy froze for a moment, looking almost like a statue, and then he smiled. “If one is open, then sure.”

“Lucky for you, there’s one right here!” Kokichi said, his voice still way louder than it had to be.

The boy glanced toward the front of the bus nervously. Then, with the speed of someone escaping death’s row, he ran straight for the seat, practically falling into it. “Thanks,” he said, almost nervously.

With him closer, Kokichi could notice details that he hadn’t seen before. Like, for example, his ridiculously long eyelashes. _He’s probably wearing mascara,_ he reasoned, but despite how perfectly the explanation fit, he still couldn’t help but question it. There were no overly dark lumps in the lashes; they looked completely natural. _Weird._

His eyelashes were the only thing Kokichi could clearly make out when it came to his eyes; the boy’s hat was pulled almost completely over his face, obscuring a quarter of his face from few. It irritated Kokichi, in some ways, to not be able to perfectly see his expressions and reactions.

“You’ve never come here before,” Kokichi stated matter-of-factly, leaving no room for debate. There was no need to; he knew the people that came on and off his train like the back of his hand.

The boy just giggled nervously, hand reaching up to pull his hat forward even more. “Yeah. I used to homeschool, so…“ he trailed off.

Kokichi nodded. That made sense. “What made you stop?”

“Homeschooling?”

Kokichi just waved his hand in response, signaling for him to continue.

“My parents just didn’t think I was getting the best possible education, working off of my own curriculum and time,” he said. Even with his face practically obscured from view, Kokichi could notice a bitter tone in his voice, as if he was talking about a person that had killed his dog. _Or something._

He hummed in response. “That must suck! You know, overly-controlling parents are getting more and more common these days,” he said, his voice cheerful, despite the dreary topic.

_Speaking of dreary,_ Kokichi thought, glancing back out the window. “What school are you going to, anyway?”

“Jindai,” the boy followed his gaze to outside. His face lit up when he saw the rain; a direct contrast to how Kokichi had felt that morning, when he’d woken up to threateningly dark clouds and gray skies.

“Oh. That’s totally different from the school I go to! Although, I’m not surprised. I go to a prestigious private school for supreme leaders of evil organizations,” he said, weaving lies into his words and mischief into his tone of voice without even thinking about it. He wasn’t totally sure why he did it; there was nothing suspicious or seemingly dangerous about this boy. _It’s just better to be careful than to regret being too naïve later._

The boy tilted his head up, hat falling slightly back to reveal his eyes, gray and calculating. Looking at how the stranger observed him, as if he was piecing together his whole identity with a simple gaze, made Kokichi grateful that he’d lied about where he went to school.

“That’s a lie,” he said. Almost as quickly as he’d looked up, though, he pulled his hat over his eyes again and fidgeted with the hem of his uniform. “I think.”

Kokichi pouted. “How could you not believe me? I hate liars! I hate lies! They’re the worst. You’re so mean,” he crossed his arms and looked away, using his dramatics as an excuse to avert his eyes. There was something about the boy that almost scared him; as if he knew all of his secrets and wouldn’t be afraid to use them against him if push came to shove.

He could see the boy flinch at the last phrase, just out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry,” said boy apologized, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kokichi’s blood ran cold. _What is up with this guy?_ He turned back towards him, smiling his usual _oops-I-pushed-too-far-but-I-still-refuse-to-stop_ grin. “That was a lie!” He snickered, “good job at picking up on it! I’ll give you an _E_ for effort!”

The boy looked back up, fingers tapping together awkwardly. “Oh,” was all he said.

“Anyway, what’s with the hat? You look so emo!” Kokichi laughed.

The boy bristled at the comment, “is there something wrong with it?” Kokichi almost winced at how defensive he got over something as small as a hat. _There has to be something more to it,_ he mentally noted, because apparently his mind just couldn’t shut down for two minutes.

Before he could continue the conversation, the train came to a screeching halt. The rain somehow pounded on the window even harder when it was stopped, making it so Kokichi could barely hear the stranger’s, “that’s my stop. Goodbye,” before he was already rushing off the train, file in hand and hat pulled over his face.

Kokichi stared out the window for a second, watching his hunched over, retreating figure before he shrugged and pulled his legs up to the seat beside him once more, right before a girl that couldn’t be older than three could sit herself down. It earned him a glare from the child’s dad, but he didn’t mind. He knew them, too.

He knew everyone on that train. Knew them so well, in fact, that on multiple occasions he had considered just taking a different train.

_Almost everyone,_ he corrected himself, eyes travelling back to where the stranger had disappeared from view, covered up by crowds of people and dark clouds of fog.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

The boy didn’t ride the train in the afternoon; or, at least, he didn’t ride _Kokichi’s_ train. _That’s okay, though,_ he thought to himself, flopping into his usual two seats dramatically and turning to place his forehead against the window, so he could see people as they walked in. With the boy gone, he had time for strategizing; every interaction took meticulous planning. Every movement needed careful consideration; every lie needed to be told with full caution.

The rain had long since cleared up, and with it, the stuffiness in his head. Nobody dared to speak in a voice louder than a whisper, making the bus seem more like a twilight zone than public transportation. Somehow, it gave him a far worse headache than the chattering of a crowd would.

For the rest of the ride, he used the quiet to his advantage, thinking up every possible situation, considering how he would turn each interaction in his favor.

Eventually, with every possible turnout solved, the idea of talking with the boy seemed rather boring.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

Friday morning began the same way, only with a carton of orange juice instead of milk, and little to no gray skies in sight. He said farewell to an empty house and made his way to the bus stop, skipping with every step.

On the bus, he listened into other people’s conversations, trying to pass the time before the third stop. Nobody had anything particularly interesting to say, although maybe that was just what being an adult was like. The idea made a shiver run down his spine. His current life was already dull enough, _thank you very much_.

When the pregnant lady took her first step out of the bus, Kokichi shifted his legs to the floor again and waited, staring out the window, observing all the people that passed by.

“Is this seat still free?” A voice from above him asked. If Kokichi wasn’t as good at masking his reactions as he was, he’d have jumped straight out of his seat. He didn’t do that, though. Instead, he just gave a carefree smile and gestured to the seat next to him.

“Yeah, by my imaginary friend, Kiibo!” _Kiiboy would kill him if he knew he called him imaginary,_ he mused to himself briefly.

The boy just chuckled and sat down next to him, apparently taking it as a yes. “Oh, but I’m serious, _emo-hat-boy_! Kiibo is very upset that you sat on him,” he pouted.

“Emo-hat-boy?” The boy asked incredulously, blinking a few times as if he was still trying to comprehend the nickname.

“Well, you haven’t given me your name, so I just had to guess! It’s close, right? Right?” Kokichi asked, straightening up.

The boy looked downward again, twisting his fingers awkwardly. “I’m Shuichi Saihara.”

Something clicked in Kokichi’s brain. “Oh, I’ve heard of your family!” The boy—Shuichi—flinched at the comment, but he ignored it, continuing anyways. “You have that detective uncle! He’s been in the newspaper a few times. Caught that big thief recently, right?”

Shuichi sighed in response to that, almost as if in relief, and nodded. “Yeah, that’s my uncle.”

“I’ve been following this one guy that solves cold cases that have been set aside by officials, too. Is he your brother or something?”

He laughed at that, shaking his head and looking down at the files in his hand. “No, that’s me. I’ve been doing side cases for my uncle when he doesn’t have the time to do them himself.”

Kokichi hummed, “sounds like hard work. Boring!” He sung. Then, he pointed towards the file in his companion’s hands. “That a case? Is it private work? Let me see!”

Shuichi shrugged, “you can see it, I guess. It’s so old that it doesn’t really matter who looks over my shoulder while I work, hence why I bring it to school.” He opened the file as he spoke, his hands fumbling around for a second before grabbing a packet of papers and handing them to Kokichi.

In all honesty, Kokichi hadn’t actually been expecting to look at the files. And he hadn’t been about to push for it, either. The law wasn’t something he’d like to get tangled up in. Like hell he was going to give up the chance once it was handed to him, though. He skimmed through the papers.

It was a murder case from just a few years ago, not as far in the past as he’d thought it would be, and it had very few pieces of evidence. Most of the text that _was_ there was scratched over, replaced with notes in red pen that must have been made by Shuichi, scribbled in messy and rushed handwriting.

All the notes were logical and clearly well thought out. _He’s smart,_ Kokichi mentally noted, as if he hadn’t been suspecting that from the moment he’d had those calculating eyes on him. “Wow, Shuichi, these are useless!” He lied, his tone of voice light-hearted and his words drawn out longer than necessary. “Seriously, I thought you’d be more interesting after hearing about your work. Such a letdown.”

Shuichi laughed dryly, flipping the pages to be in the right order again and then slipping them back into the file. “Yeah, yeah.”

Only one thing came to mind as Kokichi watched Shuichi put all of his notes away, neat and tidy and not at all what he’d expected from hands that practically shook with anxiety. Acting on his thoughts before he lost his chance, Kokichi stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a deck of playing cards. Shuichi glanced at him questioningly, but before he could ask what he was doing, Kokichi shoved a Five of Hearts into his hand.

“Keep it.”

Shuichi raised an eyebrow but nodded, apparently far past the point of arguing. He slid the card into a pocket in his uniform and opened his mouth to speak. His words were lost in the sound of the engine hissing, though. The bus came to a complete stop and Shuichi just waved and got up, shooting Kokichi one last nervous smile before climbing down the stairs two steps at a time and disappearing from view.

The last of Kokichi’s bus ride was spent staring out the window, as if it was still possible to see Shuichi, even from countless miles away.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

For the next few weeks, Kokichi spent his bus rides trying to understand his new companion. Shuichi was confusing; he had seemed so predictable when they’d first met, as if just about anybody could look right through him. It didn’t take long for Kokichi to learn that wasn’t the case, though. Any chance of planning ahead had been washed down the drain, along with his state of mind and productivity, when he’d met him.

Tuesday, October fifteenth, was yet another day full of surprises.

“Do you like Danganronpa?” Shuichi asked, looking everywhere but Kokichi. “The television show, I mean.”

Kokichi leaned back, legs crossed and hand over his forehead. “ _Everybody_ likes Danganronpa nowadays. That’s not even a question you have to ask.”

“Oh, right. Well, are you caught up on all of the episodes?”

“Yeah, of course I am!”

Shuichi’s eyes lit up. “Really? Who do you think is the mastermind? I think it’s going to be Yua, but Hiroto is a possibility, too.”

“Yua? Seriously? The Ultimate _Makeup Artist_?” He asked incredulously. “She’s way too dumb to be the mastermind. Literally two episodes ago she said that she didn’t know America was a country.”

“Exactly! I think it’s an act to hide her true nature. What about you?”

“Hiroto seems like he could be, but I think it would be too obvious for him to be the mastermind. He already acts so cold and uncaring about the killing game; why would Team Danganronpa make such a boring storyline? I think it’s the protagonist, Itsuki. It would be a big plot twist. Plus, they haven’t done an unreliable narrator yet.”

Shuichi tilted his head, fingers twitching. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Itsuki would be an interesting mastermind.”

Kokichi suddenly stuck his arms straight out to the side, head raised in pride. “Yeah, well, I’m always right! Surely, you’ve figured that out by now, Saihara-chan? A supreme leader never loses.”

Shuichi just nodded along, like he always did. “Yes, yes.” He paused, and then asked, “would you want to get off at my stop in the afternoon today? I don’t have anywhere to be after school, so I’m able to catch the bus immediately after school. We could go get some food, or something.”

Kokichi pretended to consider for a second. “I don’t know, Saihara-chan. A supreme leader has a very busy schedule!” He laughed after that, as if it was the funniest joke he’d ever told, and then said, “but I suppose I could make some room for you.”

“Great! There’s a really good restaurant a few blocks away from my bus stop. We can go there.”

Kokichi shrugged, “we’ll see if I like it. I’m very picky, you know.”

“So you’ve said,” Shuichi laughed.

Kokichi hadn’t even noticed the bus had come to a stop until Shuichi stood up and began making his way off the bus. “I’ll see you then.”

“Uh, yeah,” Kokichi mentally cursed himself for hesitating, but the regret didn’t last long as he turned around in his seat and watched Shuichi disappear into the distance. He didn’t even bother to put his legs back up on the seat beside him; just placed his bag there to hold the seat and continued to watch out the window, craning his neck until there was no longer any possible way for him to see the bus stop.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

When Shuichi had said a few blocks, apparently he had _actually_ meant blocks. The walk was much longer than Kokichi would have preferred, and if they weren’t heading there together, he might have just turned around and walked away. Still, though, listening to Shuichi rant about the latest Danganronpa episodes proved to make it all worth the trouble.

When they finally arrived at the restaurant, it was almost completely empty, leading to them being seated immediately. “It just opened about thirty minutes ago,” Shuichi had explained upon arriving.

Kokichi scanned the menu, kicking the pole under the table as he considered what he wanted. All the while, Shuichi continued to talk, changing the topic every five minutes. Kokichi had never realized how talkative Shuichi could be when he got in the right headspace. _Note to self,_ he thought absent-mindedly, _ask to go here more often._

Surprisingly, when the waiter came over to take their orders, Shuichi didn’t even stutter on what he wanted, although he did apologize way too many times when he changed his mind about his drink half way through the order. Kokichi just got a simple burger and fries; he hadn’t been lying about being picky, and seeing as it was an American restaurant, it left him with very little options for familiar foods.

“How have your cases been going?” Kokichi asked when Shuichi supposedly ran out of things to talk about.

All his companion did was shrug in response. “It’s going. Nothing too interesting, seeing as options have been limited recently.”

“It’s probably because you’ve already solved all of the interesting cold cases,” Kokichi pointed out helpfully, sipping on his water.

“Yeah, probably,” Shuichi laughed, tipping his hat down as if he was insecure about just simply being happy.

The rest of the evening was spent with them switching between topics (although most of them ended with something Danganronpa-related. Shuichi must have an addiction to the show or something) and nibbling on their food.

When they finally left, Kokichi had to quite literally bolt to catch the last bus of the day, waving to Shuichi without looking back. He could’ve sworn he heard his friend call, “see you tomorrow!” but he couldn’t really make it out with the sound of his shoes pounding against the sidewalk.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

The next morning, Shuichi greeted Kokichi with a piece of paper that had messy numbers scrawled over the top. “My phone number,” Shuichi clarified when given a weird look.

Kokichi breathed out an, “oh, I knew that,” and immediately went to add the contact to his phone, adding a magnifying glass emoji to the end of Shuichi’s name for good measure.

Without warning, he held his phone up, camera on. “Smile!” Shuichi didn’t, in fact, smile, but he did raise one of his eyebrows in a quizzical glance. Kokichi put the photo in his contact information and clicked off. Usually, when he added a photo to a contact (which is practically never, seeing as he doesn’t have any contacts to add), he deletes the photo from his camera roll immediately. When it came to Shuichi, though, he felt all of his instincts going against it.

“I’ll text you later!” Kokichi assured, before launching into a conversation about the old man and his dog that lived across the street from him.

Shuichi listened to each and every word, even adding on to the topic, which is more than some can say.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

A few nights later, Kokichi got a call at three am. At first, he was considering ignoring it and going back to asleep, seeing as it was most likely just his sister from college calling to see how he was doing, or a scammer trying to get money. When he turned over in bed and saw the name, though, he clicked answer immediately, not even thinking about what a call that early in the morning could possibly be about.

_“That took an awfully long amount of time,”_ Shuichi said, his voice quiet but clearly audible over the phone.

Kokichi hummed, “As I’ve said before, I have quite a busy schedule. I just had to stop in the middle of a heist so I could answer you! Where’s your apology?” He didn’t even try to keep his voice down; his mom was a heavy sleeper, anyways.

“Sorry,” Shuichi said in a tone of voice that made it clear he didn’t actually mean it.

“Seriously, what do you need?”

“ _I don’t need anything,”_ Shuichi mumbled into the phone. Kokichi could hear a fan whirring in the background, most likely right next to him. “ _’Just wanted to talk. I can hang up, if you’re too tired for that_.”

Kokichi sat up, desperately trying to keep his eyes open. If it was Miu, he’d probably have hung up the moment she offered the possibility, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself tot hang up on Shuichi. “I’ve been awake all night,” he lied easily, “so I don’t mind. _I guess.”_

Shuichi’s voice raised at that, just slightly, and Kokichi could visualize the sparkle in his eyes and the fidgeting of his hands. “What did you think of the latest Danganronpa episode?” _Of course he wants to talk about Danganronpa._

“It was so boring! Seriously, Itsuka needs to step it up. He’s by far the worst protagonist they’ve made in a while. Almost as boring as Makoto!”

“Makoto isn’t boring,” Shuichi said, almost sounding offended. “He isn’t as interesting as Nagito or anything, but he isn’t horrible.”

“Leave it to you to get defensive over a fake television character!” Kokichi giggled, examining his nails as he spoke. Really, he couldn’t see his hand in the inky darkness, but he pretended anyways.

Shuichi scoffed, “I’m not getting defensive.”

“Sure, sure.”

Shuichi laughed at that, his light and friendly voice carrying through the phone directly into Kokichi’s ear, and he almost laughed along with him, too, despite not knowing what he was laughing about.

“I guess I am. Sometimes I wonder if you know me too well,” Shuichi said, his voice barely above a murmur.

“I’m just that great,” Kokichi pointed out, his voice somehow level despite the way his hands and face were heating up. Suddenly, he felt the need to have a fan, too.

“Maybe you are,” Shuichi whispered. They both fell silent after that, neither of them daring to speak, as if one wrong comment could ruin their whole friendship.

Eventually, Kokichi forgot they were even on the phone, wide awake and unable to do anything but think. His thinking, however, was cut off by Shuichi yawning and saying, “I’m going to hang up now.”

Kokichi smiled without even realizing it, sinking back down into his blankets. “Alright. Goodnight, Saihara-chan.”

“Good night, Kokichi.”

A loud beeping sound came directly out of Kokichi’s phone, signaling the end of the call.

The rest of the night was spent sleepless, the only noise being the sound of the fan he’d turned on and the obnoxiously loud sound of his beating heart.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

Trips to what supposedly was Shuichi’s favorite restaurant and late-night phone calls became the norm for them. Every Friday, they went out to eat, and almost every night, Shuichi called. It became a pattern, one that Kokichi couldn’t even lie about hating.

At one point in his life, routine made things a thousand times more boring. Kokichi would skip his house on purpose during the walk home, miss an hour of school just so he could get detention, and never check the weather just so he could keep things interesting. With Shuichi, though, he found that routine wasn’t all that bad. Especially not when, even with the predictable routine, the things that happened during that routine could never be planned out or guessed. They were out of the blue, which was good for Kokichi’s inquisitive mind and horrible for his pounding heart.

And along with their predictably unpredictable daily life, another thing happened that Kokichi had never expected; he fell hard for Shuichi Saihara.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

The first time Shuichi visited Kokichi’s house, it was completely random and out of the routine that he’d come to love so much.

“Hey, Kokichi?” Shuichi had asked on their way to school, hands gripping his file nervously.

“Yeah?” Kokichi asked, pausing in his rant about the lifespan of penguins and how it affected Alaska’s ecosystem.

Shuichi stopped for a moment, as if thinking his words over, and then said, “instead of going out to eat, do you think we could head over to your place? If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

For a second, Kokichi considered refusing, but upon seeing Shuichi’s anxious expression, he took pity upon him and nodded. “Sure! You can’t talk about it with anyone else though, or I might have to kill you. It’s DICE members and Shuichi Saihara only!”

Shuichi’s face lit up. “Good! Okay. Great. Nice,” he said, his words incoherent and yet fully understandable. It was a contradictory sentence; somehow, Kokichi thought that was a perfect representation of their relationship.

And so, when they got on the bus in the afternoon, instead of getting off at Shuichi’s stop, they waited three more turns and then got off at Kokichi’s, Shuichi still hopping down two steps at a time and Kokichi hopping down all the way, not even looking where he was going as he fell.

The walk was spent in comfortable silence, not a drop of tension in the air. When they arrived, Kokichi pushed the door open and called an, “I’m home!” to a totally empty house. Shuichi added an apology for ‘intruding’, as if he could ever do that, and then Kokichi rushed up to his bedroom, leaving his friend to follow.

His room was just as clean as it always was when they stepped in, which meant it was barely clean at all. Walking around in it was easy, sure, but each corner of the room was littered with random stuff he’d bought (or _borrowed_ ) from every shop in their town. There was a rubber chicken, five boxes of chalk, purple and black spray paint, empty grape Panta cans. The list could go on.

“Your room is a mess,” Shuichi stated helpfully. Despite his words, though, he took no time getting comfortable and throwing himself on Kokichi’s half-made bed.

Kokichi gasped dramatically, “how dare you? My room is cleaner than any room in existence? Don’t you have eyes?”

“What’s with the box of unpolished rocks on the floor?”

“Aesthetic appeal,” he sniffed.

Shuichi laughed, sitting up straight again and kicking his legs back and forth. “It definitely looks like the kind of room you’d have. Missing the video game posters, though.”

“Those are in my closet,” Kokichi said, and for once, he wasn’t lying.

“Knew it.”

Another thirty minutes was spent like that, with them just mindlessly chatting about everything and nothing at all. For once, Shuichi managed to stay on a topic that wasn’t about Danganronpa for over ten minutes. _Progress,_ Kokichi thought, smiling to himself.

“What’s that?” Shuichi suddenly asked, pointing towards his bulletin board. Kokichi followed where he was pointing with his eyes and then made a sound that slightly resembled, “oh.”

“That’s the playing card that I think describes me best.”

Shuichi tilted his head, hat almost falling off his head in the process. “Jack of Spades. What does it mean?”

“Bad news. It can almost mean trouble,” Kokichi said, on the verge of breaking into a giggling fit. Usually, nobody cared about his love for playing card meanings. It was weird, yet strangely in character for Shuichi.

Shuichi tilted his head even farther. His hat was way gone by then, having fallen off the edge of the bed. He made no move to pick it up, allowing Kokichi to see how calculating his eyes had gotten. “How do you know what it means?”

“I have most of them memorized, but for the ones I don’t, there’s a chart under my pillow.”

Shuichi hummed, reaching under the left pillow and taking out the chart. “Weird place for it.” He read through it for a second and then suddenly stood up. Before Kokichi could question him, he grabbed the deck of cards next to the bed and took out a Nine of Hearts. He then proceeded to pin it directly on top of the Jack of Spades.

Kokichi’s eyes widened as he remembered that card’s meaning. _Love or respect._ “What are you doing?”

“I don’t think you’re bad news, or trouble, although your humor might be,” Shuichi replied, turning around so he could look Kokichi directly in the eyes. “I think that card fits you better.”

They didn’t say anything about the card again for the rest of the hours Shuichi was there. They moved onto other topics and Kokichi almost could’ve forgotten about it, if the card wasn’t the first thing he saw every time he so much as moved his head.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

It was too late for Shuichi to walk home alone by the time they even considered separating, so Kokichi ended up walking him home.

The walk was once again spent in comfortable silence, but something was different about it, as if it was charged with some kind of energy that Kokichi wasn’t sure he hated or loved.

Somehow, halfway through the walk, Shuichi’s fingers had intertwined with Kokichi’s and the latter had just allowed it. He was tempted to shake him off, or run, or something equally as overdramatic, but he ignored the urge, deciding to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Kokichi looked up at the sky, already beginning to be dotted with bright stars and clouds that looked almost purple. He felt as if that day, their interactions had become fragile, like they could shatter if they weren’t careful. It scared him, but the fear was exciting, almost; like it was bringing a whole new perspective to his life that he hadn’t even considered before.

When they eventually got to Shuichi’s door, their hands came apart and Kokichi almost chased after him, afraid that if he were to let him go then, he’d never get him back. Instead, he just asked, in a voice that he was surprised Shuichi could even hear, “why did you choose the Nine of Hearts?”

Shuichi paused and then turned around, facing him completely. He looked oddly serious, but also ridiculously nervous, his cheeks tinged pink and his hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, like they’d been when they first met.

“Because I love you.”

Kokichi’s blood ran cold at the words, as if he’d just been told he was going to die in twenty minutes. _Maybe I am,_ his stubborn brain that refused to shut up whispered back at him.

They were quiet for a good two minutes, awkward and even more fragile than before. Kokichi didn’t know if he should run or take a step closer, so he just stood still, eyes cast down to the concrete outside of Shuichi’s house.

“You don’t have to respond,” Shuichi finally said, as if he had sensed Kokichi’s anxiety. “Just know that I do,” he murmured, and then turned around, about to walk inside. Just before he could close the door, though, Kokichi grabbed the back of his ridiculously cliché detective jacket.

“I do too,” he said, his voice shaking and barely above a whisper. “I,” he paused, thinking it over, and then admitted, “I like you a lot.”

Shuichi’s hand stopped just above the doorknob and then he twisted around halfway, so he was just barely facing Kokichi. His smile was soft and nervous, but understanding. “I’m glad,” he whispered.

They said nothing more. Shuichi grabbed Kokichi’s hand for just another second and squeezed it. Kokichi felt like that mere hold was the thing that was bounding him to earth, keeping him from drifting off in a haze of nothingness and everything all at once.

Then, Shuichi stepped inside and closed the door.

Kokichi didn’t know how long he stood outside Shuichi’s house, twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip. Long enough to have gotten five different calls from his mom, asking where he was. Long enough for the night to get completely dark, only visible because of the streetlights that littered the sidewalk.

It wasn’t long enough to quiet the beating of his heart, though.

_~_

_For I can’t help_

_falling in love with you._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'm actually really happy with this fic, it might be one of my favorites that I've written. Either way, if you enjoyed, please leave kudos and/or a comment! It keeps me writing <3


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